


The Hands by Which We Take Hold of Heaven

by WhatEvenAmI



Series: John Winchester's A+ parenting [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Babysitting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Caring Sam, Caring Sam Winchester, Child Death, Children, Fear, Feels, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Sam Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kid Winchesters, Nightmares, Pre-Series, Trauma, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3123278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatEvenAmI/pseuds/WhatEvenAmI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is used to doing all kinds of things for cases, but this one has left him with a task a little over his head. He has no idea how to take care of a confused and traumatized child, but he finds that he doesn't entirely suck at it.</p><p>There are, however, a few other complications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hands by Which We Take Hold of Heaven

Sam knew that, competence-wise, he was far ahead of other twelve-year-olds. By now, no matter what circumstances arose, he'd developed the ability to assess and then handle them in seconds. And even if a situation was beyond him, he knew when to fall back on his brother. Dean would know what to do.

But Dean had gone off with Dad to take out the remainder of the vamp nest, leaving Sam in charge of the kid. 

Sam had no idea what to do for a confused and traumatized child. Dean knew how handle that, or at least Dean had always kept him together when he felt like he was close to coming unglued. But there'd been work left to do, and it wouldn't be a one-man job. So Dad had told Dean to come with, and Dean had gone.

The kid was maybe four or five, a little girl with dark hair pulling loose from a ponytail and wide dulled eyes. She wore bloodstained jeans and the worn, oversized sweatshirt Sam had wrapped around her small body. You were supposed to do that, right? It helped people who were in states of shock? Sam wasn't actually sure.

They'd been able to lead her into the car without resistance. She'd stopped speaking, gave no sign of response to their attempts to check in with her. She'd kept up that hollow stare for the duration of the car ride. Sam had led her into the motel room and a flicker seemed to stir in her at least for a moment. She walked over to one of the beds, climbed up, and seated herself on the edge (Sam hoped she wouldn't leave bloodstains on the comforter). Then she was back to the staring, her gaze fixed on the wall, giving no sign that she was aware of their presence. She seemed gone from the world.

* * *

_Dad led the boys through the shadows with purpose, having found the vampire at last. They had all been increasingly edgy and irritable, searching for Bert. He was their only lead; there had to be a whole nest of vamps, but they'd had trouble finding them amid the squalid city. It was full of sketchy shit going on; it was no wonder vampire activity had grown so quickly undetected. A couple days previously, Dean had managed a glimpse at the teeth on a man that he recognized, someone who went by the name of Bert. But they'd lost him._

_It had taken too damn long to find him again, and wasted time could have meant lives lost. Vamps fed on fresh blood, which meant the more recently taken victims might still be alive. Eventually, though, the humans would weaken. They'd be killed and discarded, and new blood sources would be sought after._

_Now they were tailing Bert, hoping he'd lead them back to the nest. They were well aware that it could be a trap; chances were, the vampire had already sensed them. But this nest had a lot of hostages, and some of the missing were young kids. Trap or not, there was no way they weren't going in._

* * *

Sam had unsuccessfully attempted to get the kid to eat (peanut M&M's from the vending machine by the stairs) and drink water. He'd asked her a couple times for a name, a place she could go, a phone number, anything. No reaction. He'd risked a quick shower with the bathroom door cracked open, just to rinse off the blood, hoping that she wouldn't try to run away. He'd come back out in his sweats to find her still firmly planted on the bed. Giving up, he'd switched on the TV. Now they were watching in silence.

Well, he was watching. She was staring in the general direction of the television. For some reason, it seemed to be helping, though. As the evening progressed, he caught her eyes flickering once or twice, following the motions of an on-screen character. When he tried to talk, however, she froze right back up.

Well, eventually he'd have to get her to go to bed. More importantly, he'd have to get the blood off of her. Eventually they would have to give her to someone else's care, once they found a relative that could take her. Or Dad could just drop her off at a police station, but that might mean lots of questions, and the blood definitely wouldn't help there either.

When the boys were younger, Dean often put his arm around Sam when he was upset, pulling him closer. Tentatively, Sam wrapped an arm around the girl's thin frame, resting his hand on her shoulder. At first she didn't seem to notice, and Sam's attention was drifting back to the TV when he felt her body jerk away. He made to remove his arm when suddenly her weight rested against him, her head on his chest. He was surprised, but gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Can you hear me?" he tried in a low voice. 

It took a second, but he felt her nod against his shirt.

"Okay. Can you tell me your name?"

A pause. She shook her head.

"Okay. Well. I'm Sammy."

"Sammy." Her voice was tiny and hoarse but she had broken her silence.

* * *

_Bert stopped in front of an abandoned-looking building, pushing in the door. The windows were darkened, but Dad leaned close to one anyway, trying to see in. He turned back to Sam and Dean, both of whom raised their eyebrows in question. He shook his head and pulled out the knife._

_It was an intimidating weapon, curved and rough and as long as Dad's forearm. The simplest way to kill a vampire was to cut off its head, and this blade was meant for just that. Beheading was not as easy as TV made it look; you had to get through muscles and tendons and spinal cord. Sam had managed it a few times, always with some effort and tightly gritted teeth._

_His first time, the blade had stuck partway through. He'd had to give it a push. The head, pouring blood like a fountain, had wobbled back, and he'd been sprayed full in the face._

_He'd been completely unprepared for that, and if not for Dean grabbing his arm and holding him steady, he'd have doubled over and vomited._

_This time he was prepared._

_But Dad's blade, that was something else entirely. Heavy and deadly sharp, when it was swung in Dad's strong grip, Sam had seen it sever heads as easily as shears severed a garden plant from its stem._

_Dean slowly tried the door. It swung open easily, and emptiness greeted them in the dark hallway._

_So, so very definitely a trap. Vampires often did that._

* * *

Sam just sat with the kid for a while. Noting that touch seemed to be bringing her out of her unresponsive state, he'd begun stroking her hair before he said,

"You should probably get a shower and rinse off...all that." She turned up to him, a little bit of life coming back into her dark eyes. She said nothing, but allowed him to nudge her off the bed and lead her to the bathroom.

He got some warm water running in the tub, but she just stood there looking a little bewildered. Would he have to...how did you give a kid a bath? 

Okay, so he was gonna have to do this.

Experimentally, he tried tugging at the hem of the sweatshirt, and some kind of muscle memory seemed to come back to her. Mechanically, she slid off her jeans and stepped out of them, then clumsily detangled herself from the sweatshirt. Sam wondered if he should leave, but she clearly didn't care about modesty. She clambered over the side of the tub and sat, legs out in front of her. She stared at the ripples lapping at her feet.

The water was beginning to swirl faintly red, but nowhere near enough. The kid was still smeared head to toe in blood.

Sam remembered Dean using a removable shower head to wash gore off the two of them when he was young. This shower head, however, looked to be attached to the wall. Would his hands work, or...

A cup. There was a cup on the sink.

But when he made to leave the bathroom, the girl began to whimper.

"I'm coming back," Sam said hastily, reaching for the cup, "See, I'm right here, kid...um. I'm gonna call you Kid for now."

"Cora," she whispered at her toes.

* * *

_Dad held the knife aloft in one hand. With the other, he made a gesture behind his back. The boys knew that signal. It meant that, if possible, they were to hide themselves within sight, trying to make it appear as though Dad had come alone. As this was obviously a trap, Sam doubted the building residents didn't know full-well that they were all here. But Dad probably had some kind of plan. He would just have to trust that. Now was not the time to start bickering aloud._

_So when they drew past the room on the left and saw the glow of firelight emanating from within, Sam and Dean hung back in the hall. And that was why, when the shadows came off the wall to gather around Dad, Sam and Dean were still outside to hear a child's faint cry from further in._

_So at least some of the victims were alive. But they'd have to wait for rescue. The boys had more pressing matters on their hands. At least until the cry pitched up into a distressed scream. The child was being hurt badly, right now. At least one of the vampires was with the victims._

_"I'll help Dad with these sons of bitches," Dean breathed, "Get those people out."_

_Sam nodded and crept deeper into the shadows, turning the corner. That's when he stopped. Further ahead, a beam of moonlight streamed in from a window. It illuminated the small pale body on the faded carpet._

_As Sam came closer, he recognized the girl from the newspapers. The Tobins, a dark-haired smiling family with three young children, had been the most recent to go missing. They'd been returning home from a social gathering of some sort, but they'd never made it. This girl was their eldest child._

_Sam didn't have to see her torn shirt and scabbed neck to know what had happened. They'd taken too much blood and she'd weakened too quickly. So they'd drained her and discarded her body. Judging by the state of it, that had been recent. Dammit, if they hadn't lost Bert..._

_There were more bloodless corpses, but Sam stepped over them. The child was shrieking now, loud and clear, and he was following the sound with his knife raised. It was coming from a door to his left. Sam shoved it open, not bothering with subtlety._

_It was a spacious room, moonlit and completely empty except for the other two Tobin children huddled together and the two larger figures feeding off them. The boy sat on his knees on the dirty linoleum, head down and neck bloodied. The screaming girl clung to his arm._

_Sam recognized the two vampires, but not from around the city._

_This was part of the trap._

_The vampires feeding on the children were dark-haired and pale, and Sam recognized them from newspaper photographs. The girl wasn't screaming from pain, but from fear and shock; she was being fed upon by her own parents._

_They had been turned._

* * *

In the end, Sam had to use Cora's shirt as a washcloth.

Too much blood had dried on her skin. She sat in a few inches of darkening water while Sam rubbed the shirt along her arms. Ruby red droplets dripped into the tub. It was probably in her hair, too. He slid out her elastic hair tie and poured water over her head with the cup.

She closed her eyes, and it came rust-colored down her face.

He combed through her mats and tangles as best he could with his hands, wanting to make sure he didn't leave any blood behind. It took a couple times draining the tub and refilling it, but finally the water rinsed clear.

Her clothes were a lost cause, blood-encrusted and badly stained. He draped the sweatshirt over her like a robe and she pulled it tight around her shoulders, gripping the fabric in her little fists. Sam made a note to tell Dad, if he hadn't thought of it already, to get Cora something to wear. Tomorrow she could have one of Dad or Dean's t-shirts, but they couldn't bring her in looking like a homeless kid. Someone would have to go shopping.

"Time for bed, Cora."

Still dazed, she let him take her back into the room. 

"I'm gonna leave the TV on so it won't be dark, okay?"

The dark eyes flicked toward him, but no answer. He pulled back the covers and she climbed up onto the bed. He tucked her in, as his brother had done for him when he was little. He was a little relieved that the extent of his childcare duties seemed to be done. Still, he stayed on the bed next to her until her eyes were shut and her breathing even. 

Exhausted as she must have been, that didn't take long, and soon Sam was pulling up the covers of his own bed. It had been a long day, and sleep swallowed him instantly.

He woke abruptly some time later to Cora's shrill, panicked screams.

* * *

_Sam didn't let himself think about what he was about to do, because killing the Tobins in front of their own children would have been too much, even for him, but he knew it had to be done. He wasn't sure if they'd actually kill their kids, but someone had left their eldest daughter's body lying in the hall and he didn't see them out there weeping over her. And even if the Tobin kids might not be in immediate danger, he certainly was._

_He took a running start and launched himself at them, knife in motion. He caught the woman off guard and blood sprayed from her neck. Sam grimaced as it splattered the two kids, then turned in time to fend off the man. Sam threw himself on the floor, rolled over to the kids, and planted himself firmly between them and their parents._

_Slashes were traded between knife and claws. He wouldn't have the time to decapitate one vampire without the other killing him, and he was losing ground, forced back toward the kids. From behind him, he heard the girl shriek, "Mommy!" He faltered, and the Tobin man's face was in his._

_Then it was gone, replaced by Dean's hard, determined expression. The head hit the floor and rolled. Not for the first time in his life, Sam was sprayed with warm blood. Dean let the body fall to the floor and rushed to help Dad, who was pulling the woman away from the children. She was struggling, clawing at air and screaming over her daughter's cries._

_"You could never understand, I could fix them! Don't you dare try to keep me from-"_

_Then her head rolled too. The girl's voice rose in pitch. "Mommyyyy!"_

_Sam turned to the kids. "We're gonna get you out of here," he said, "We're getting out of this place." He wanted to add something like, "It'll be okay," or "you're safe". But they'd just killed these kids' parents before their eyes. He didn't even try to reassure them._

_The girl sobbed for her mother and father, and the boy finally raised his head to look at Sam and Dean with eyes that...that seemed wrong somehow. They were confused, yes, and dazed, but-_

_His mouth was smeared with blood. Between his lips Sam could see the beginnings of fangs._

_They'd arrived moments too late. The boy had been turned, and he'd been feeding. Feeding, while Sam fought his parents, on his own sister's blood._

_"Get her away from him, he's turned!" Sam shouted, pushing the girl toward Dean. But the boy tried to follow, fangs prominent in his open mouth. It was Dad who stepped up, catching the arm of the boy, who writhed in his grip. The vampirism was giving the kid some serious strength. Dad was a lot bigger and that helped, but wouldn't be able to hold the kid for long._

_"Get the girl out!" Sam called to Dean, but the boy was already baring his teeth and twisting for Dad's arm._

_A flash, and the big knife had swung, the knife that severed grown men's necks as easily as shears severed plants from their stems. The kid, small and newly turned, didn't stand a chance. His head flew, and his body slumped against his sister, splashing her with blood. Dean jerked her out of the way, and the body slid to the floor._

_And finally, her screams were silenced._

* * *

Sam was up in an instant, hunting knife in hand. His first thought was that some of the vamps had tracked them down. His second was even less pleasant, and dread seeped in.

The screams turned to ragged sobs, and as Sam looked around the room, lit by the soft glow of the TV, he found it peacefully empty. Cora had been dreaming, then. A nightmare. Not a surprise, if he thought about it. He and Dean both got them from time to time. You saw some disturbing crap in the hunting life.

Sam put the knife down on the bedside table and sat next to the form hugging her knees on the bed. Choked-off wails were forcing their way out of her. He didn't even hesitate this time. He knew what she'd seen that night and now he was seeing it too. He pulled Cora into his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and rocked her. She buried her face in his shoulder and clung tight. Every time her breath jerked he felt it in his own chest, an echo from the past.

Finally the sobs faded out, leaving Cora gasping for air. The first word she got out was, "Sammy..."

"Right here, kiddo," He said, repeating the words his brother had said to him many times, "I am right here and I am _not_ gonna let anything hurt you."

"But," Cora panted a little before she could finish, "But your dad told you that if, that if-" she couldn't speak, her breathing beginning to pick up again. Sam ran a hand up and down her back. 

"Shh, never mind what he told me. I'm not gonna hurt you, and I'm not gonna let anything else hurt you. I'm not, I swear."

"But I want Mommy n' Da- and Daddy!" she burst out before the sobs took her again. Sam's heart contracted.

"Kiddo..." he said heavily, "...I know."

* * *

_The little girl was hyperventilating, staring down at the decapitated bodies of her parents and brother._

_Dad was trying to talk to her._

_"Kid. Hey. Kid! Did one of 'em turn you?"_

_She was shaking and whimpering for her mom and dad._

_"Can you hear me, kid? Dammit, this is important. What did they do?" But something in her was shutting down. The noises she was making ceased, and her gaze was setting fixedly on the floor._

_Dad gave up. "Take her to the car. We'll figure out what to do with her later. But," he added emphatically, "We need to watch her. If anyone sees any sign she's turning, you know what to do."_

_Without really thinking about it, he gestured to the girl with his still-bloody knife._

* * *

When Cora finally wore herself out, she began to drift back to sleep. Her breathing was evening out, though every now and again she jerked in a shuddering gasp. Her hands clutched fistfuls of Sam's shirt. 

"Sammy...?" She murmured faintly.

"Yeah?" Sam whispered back. 

Silence.

"Want me to stay?" Cora nodded against his shoulder.

"Sure, kiddo." He leaned over onto the pillows, tugging the covers over both of them. He curled around Cora and rubbed her back until she fully relaxed, out like a light.

He rested his chin on her head and closed his eyes.

But not before checking to make sure that the hunting knife was within easy reach.

* * *

_The girl didn't react, and allowed Dean to propel her toward the door. Sam hoped she hadn't understood what Dad had said. She was zoned out, though. Maybe she hadn't even heard._

_"Some of the vamps ran for it," Dad said as Dean guided the kid into the backseat, "They'll get away and start up again unless we work pretty damn fast. But she'll slow us down. So Dean, I want you with me. And Sam, I'll drop you back at the motel with the kid."_

_Sam glanced apprehensively at the dazed girl, her blank bloody face illuminated in the moonlit window. He climbed into the backseat next to her, thinking that he had no idea how to deal with this._

_But Dad had told him what to do and he would do it._

_"And if she doesn't snap out of it, if you even begin to think she's turning, you do what you have to."_

_Looking over at the child, he thought that was one thing he wasn't sure he could do._

_But. If he had to do it, if he could do it, he'd make it quick for her._

_He'd make sure she didn't even know what was coming._

* * *

Sam woke to sunlight, Cora nestled loosely against his side. She was awake, staring at the ceiling in silence.

"Hey, kiddo," he said. 

"Hungry," she replied quietly, and his heart almost stopped. But then she added, "Can you make pancakes?" and he was flooded with relief.

"Not sure if I can get you those, but I'll find us something to eat."

 Sam eased his arm out from beneath Cora and got up to search for food, then noticed the clothes crumpled on the other bed. Clothes sized for someone very small.

It had to have been Dean who'd dropped those off. Only Dean could have slipped in and out of the room without waking Sam. But that didn't matter. The point was, Dean had been here, the nest was eradicated, the job was done. Now they could find a place for Cora. Sam dearly hoped that, wherever they ended up leaving her, she'd never again have to face anything like this.

He wouldn't see her again, he knew that. At least, not if she had any luck at all.

He gave her the peanut M&M's she hadn't eaten the night before, plus some apple juice from his backpack. He hoped she wouldn't still be hungry after that. He wasn't sure if there was any more food right now, but maybe he could scrounge up some change and hit the vending machine again.

For now he presented her with the clothes. Jeans, a purple t-shirt. They'd gotten her new socks and sneakers, which was good, because he'd thrown her other ones in the trash. All torn-up and soaked in blood, just like everything else she'd been wearing.

To his relief, she was much more responsive than the night before, easily dressing herself and, with a little help from Sam, tying her hair back into its low ponytail. By now he was certain that she wasn't turning. She'd seemed so scared and confused last night, it had been hard to tell. But now, to his immense relief, he could tell that she hadn't been infected.

While she was pulling the shirt over her head, he slid the hunting knife out of her sight.

* * *

_If the kid began to pull out of this state, they'd know she wasn't going to turn. Sam wasn't sure how you got someone out of this, though. He'd never really dealt with it before. The Winchesters were made of tougher stuff than that, and if someone else was left stunned or traumatized by the events of a case, they'd always let the cops or the hospitals handle it._

_Sam thought he'd heard something on TV about blankets helping, though. Something about warmth or pressure._

_He unzipped his navy sweatshirt and wrapped it around the kid tightly. She didn't move a muscle, or so it appeared at first. Sam realized her small hands were gripping the sweatshirt and pulling it tighter._

_He was glad to see that much, but he knew that it wasn't an answer._

* * *

The door opened without warning and Dad came in, followed by Dean, whose mouth was full of something. He threw a paper bag on the bed. "Breakfast, Sammy."

Cora was pressing herself against Sam's leg, clinging. She was afraid of Dad, he knew, after what Dad had said last night. Actually, he'd be surprised if she wasn't scared of them all. He rested his hand on her head, trying to convey  _it's okay, he's fine._

"How is she?" Dad asked.

"Doing better," Sam answered, knowing that Dad wasn't referring to her well-being.

"Good to hear. That nest's done for. Thing is, another case came up, and this one's gonna need some work. But I looked up her family-" Dad gestured at Cora, who gripped Sam's leg tighter, "She's got an aunt and uncle in Tulsa. So. You're gonna have to get some stuff prepared for this case. Dean'll explain. While you do that, I'm taking her to Tulsa."

Sam and Cora just stared.

"I meant now, kiddo. We need to move fast."

But Cora was shaking her head, gripping Sam's leg tighter.

"She's scared, Dad. Can't I go with you guys?"

"Not possible. This is complicated enough as it is." And Dad was coming over and pulling Cora by the arm. She began to wail, reaching weakly toward Sam. Dad picked her up as easily as a pillow. She was crying Sam's name, but Dad gave no regard.

"Dad, just let me go with-"

"Do what I tell you, Sammy." That tone and those words. They'd pretty much shaped his life.

Sam knew better than to speak again.

"You can't get attached to people, you _know_ that, Sammy." And Sam _did_ know that. He  _wasn't_ getting attached. He  _knew_ they'd have to drop her off somewhere or another, for her own sake. This wasn't an easy life, but she had a chance at a better one, maybe. It was just that she was scared and overwhelmed and last night Sam had held her and told her he'd stay with her.

And now every time she yelled his name it stabbed him in the heart. More so, it hurt not to respond. To just let Dad walk out with her as she pleaded with him.

Even with the closed door between them, he could still hear Cora wailing. Could still hear one last, "Sammyyy!"

An hour and a half later, Sam was still in the warm spray of the shower. Dean had knocked on the door and called his name. Each time he'd told his brother to go away. The last time, he hadn't even responded. He knew that Dean would give him a modified version of what Dad had said. He'd try to make Sam feel better about it, but Sam didn't want to hear it.

And he didn't want to feel better, not now. This time, he didn't want to leave everything behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> So. This got longer than I intended.
> 
> Title is a quote by Henry Ward Beecher: "Children are the hands by which we take hold of Heaven."


End file.
